


Cider

by Dazzledfirestar



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-28 01:23:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/302184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dazzledfirestar/pseuds/Dazzledfirestar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A blizzard makes it easy to spend a quiet Christmas at home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cider

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladydeathfaerie](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ladydeathfaerie).



There was something surreal about the entire scenario. For one, there wasn’t anything exploding or any threats to the safety of the world for an entire evening. That in itself might qualify as a Christmas miracle, if he believed in that kind of thing.

Second, he’d found himself completely without work to do. All the paperwork from the recent Avengers fiasco at the Latverian embassy had been filled out and filed, even by the more lax members of the team, on time and without needing any major proofing before they hit Fury’s desk. Even Stark managed to get things in on time, though he was willing to bet that was more Pepper’s hand in things than Tony.

Third, half the city was shut down due to a rather impressive blizzard. Even super villains would be slowed down by that. Hopefully. Clint had mentioned something about a snowball fight earlier but he was certainly not that stupid. Who would be dumb enough to get into a snowball fight with a man that never missed? Really, Phil thought Clint had a little more faith in him than that.

As it was, they were both holed up in Phil’s apartment and somehow Phil found himself cooking what could only really be classified as Christmas dinner for the two of them. “Are you planning on helping at all?”

“What?” Clint’s voice echoed down the hall from the living room.

Phil sighed and shook his head. “Never mind.”

It was less than ten minutes later, two arms made their way around his waist and Clint pressed his lips to Phil’s neck. “It’s Christmas. Relax a little.”

Phil couldn’t help the small smile that crossed face. “I can relax. If you don’t mind starving tonight.”

“Go sit down.” Before he could even think of arguing, Clint forcibly shuffled him out of his own kitchen and onto his couch. Phil turned as he sat, staring over the back of the cough with his best ‘what exactly do you think you’re doing?’ look. Sadly that had stopped working on Clint years ago. “Just sit, enjoy. Rudolph’s starting in a minute.”

His eyebrow crept up. “The animated one or—“

Clint smirked. “I would never offend your sensibilities with that. It’s the Rankin Bass one. Complete with that screeching horrifying nose sound effect.” He actually shivered before disappearing back toward the kitchen.

Curiosity was tickling the back of Phil’s mind about half way through _We Are Santa’s Elves_. He turned from the TV, intending on getting up and seeing what Clint was up to but he found himself faced with a stoneware mug of something steamy that smelled suspiciously festive. His eyes moved up to take in the smile Clint was throwing at him. “What’s this?”

“What? They don’t have cider where you’re from?” Clint flopped down next to him on the couch, not spilling a drop of the hot drink. “Try it.” Phil eyed the mug for a moment. “Christ, Phil it won’t kill you.” Clint took a dramatic sip of his own mug.

He gave in. The smell of cinnamon drawing him in as he took a tentative sip. It was surprisingly delicious. He lifted his head and stared at Clint for a moment before the archer shrugged.

“One of the fortune tellers at the circus used to make it at Christmas when she could pull it off. She showed me how one year.” He shrugged again. Phil watched him, knowing that there weren’t a lot of pleasant holiday memories in Clint’s past. This one was probably special in a way he’d never truly understand.

Wordlessly, he pulled Clint closer; setting both mugs on the coffee table and settling into the couch as Clint settled against him. Half way through his cider, he pressed a kiss to Clint’s temple. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Before either of them could get any more comfortable, the timer on the oven went off. It took far more effort to get Clint off of him than it usually did but the threat of a burnt dinner managed to do the trick. “Phil?”

He stopped in the doorway and turned back. “Yeah?”

“… _The Year Without Santa_ is on next.”

He valiantly managed not to smile. “Are you telling me you want to have Christmas dinner in front of the TV?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” Clint’s smile became a grin. “Please? I’ll make more cider and love you forever.”

Phil let him stew for a minute, leaning over the back of the couch and looking considerably put out. “Alright fine. But I’m only agreeing to this because of the cider.”

Clint smiled up at him and stole a kiss. “Merry Christmas, boss.”


End file.
